So this morning, the power a EID Towers went out. Top Multi-Million Dollar shysters Xcel Energy told me that it would be a full four hours before power was restored.

So, being the committed writer chap I am, I packed up my iBook in my old kit bag, and sauntered over to the Wash Park Coffee Company with my neighbour Mark, who was also all out of power, and in as dire a need for coffee as I was.

So, here we are, sat in the WPCC, with fine coffees, pain au chocolat and smalltalk with the ladies of WPCC. It's a hard life.

from the Video Dept.

A second amusing clip in only nine days? What is this site coming to?

Whilst searching for something else, completely unrelated, I came across this short clip.

You might have seen it before, in which case, tough luck. The day you start paying my bills, is the day I start worrying about that!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

from the System Administrator

I'd like to thank all of you who sent in suggestions for a new domain name. There were some really good suggestions. I've compiled a list, consisting of ones that I liked that are also currently available.

I'll publish that, as soon as I've sorted out my domain registration.

As it happens one of the suggestions, from a certain young cutie of my acquaintance, is not currently available, however, it's ownership is about to expire.

Given that Apple have done a temporary U-turn on deleting all the free .mac accounts, I have another two weeks in hand to move my images to a new server. This ties in nicely with the domain name I'm looking at trying to get, becoming available.

Once the whole domain and hosting thing is sorted out, I'll probably leave EID as it is for a short while, whilst I set up all the CGI gubbins needed to use Moveable Type or pMachine, and dick around with the design, layout, style, espresso maker etc.

Dear Bill,

I think it's now official. I hate your operating systems.

And no, it's not because I'm also a Macintosh user. It's because I'm a Windows user.

It's not because I have to reboot after installing any software, even a small update to software that's not actually running. You'll realise how shite that is when you consider that I never have to reboot my Macintoshes after installing software, unless it's an upgrade to the actual operating system itself.

Sure, the Windows Registry pisses me off. I mean, what does it actually do? Apart from prevent software being run until you've reinstalled it... again, and slow down uninstalls. But it isn't that what's making me foam at the mouth today.

No, the thing that finally put Windows into permanent suckdom, was that after upgrading my processor and motherboard, I've spent the past two sodding months trying to get your stupid ass Windows XP operating system to be stable, and reliable.

I've spent hour upon hour, reapeatedly downloading patches and driver updates from yourself, the motherboard manufacturer, the graphics card manufacturer and anyone else I could think of, in the insane belief that one of you cretins might have actually stopped playing Quake 3 long enough, to develop a fix

I spent an 90 minutes downloading your XP service pack. Yes an hour and a half on a broadband connection. God knows how long that'd have been on dial-up. And after all that, did it fix my problems? Did it fuck!

So two months later, the internal USB bus driver still dies randomly. No particular action on my part causes this, it just happens, seemingly for no sodding reason whatsoever.

Actually, I know why it's happening. It's happening because a vast corporation such as yours, with thousands of employees, can't be arsed to go around to VIA Technology (makers of my mobo's chipset) and slap the dumb bitches repeatedly, until they wake up and produce some drivers that fucking work.

Incidentally, even after applying your so-called service pack, I found that certain key, updated drivers had been left on the hard disk, but not installed. I only spotted this because I'm a vigilant geek. I wonder what your less tech-savvy users would do?

Oh, but it doesn't stop there.

My USB mouse ceasing to function because the USB root hub internal whatchamacallit has randomly decided to go for a wank, is nothing compared to the other problem.

Bill, you need to send your compliance stormtroopers round to NVidia, and see what the hell they're playing at. It's either them or your lot, who are responsible for the fact that, again randomly, the graphics card spazzes out, locking the entire machine up. No chance to save data, just have to pull the plug.

As if that wasn't unnecessarily stupid enough, how about the fact that if I try to synchronise my Pocket PC device, it causes the PC to reboot. Not, shutdown and reboot, but flash up a BSOD for about half a second, and then cut the power to the whole sodding desktop machine.

If Apple and Palm - two totally separate companies, can make their machines synchronise flawlessly,, how come YOU - who makes BOTH XP AND CE OPERATING SYSTEMS can't do the same?

So there you go Bill. I have a $500 PDA I can't synchronise, and I've spent God knows how much money and time on my PC, just trying to get a stable system. However, despite my 10+ years of IT experience with Windows, it's still not stable, or indeed, all that useful.

Oh, and by the way, I'd be lying if I said that I'd never had any problems with my Macintoshes. But you know what software is the only software to give me a problem on my Macintoshes? Internet Explorer. Your company's product.

Yours

Macs Turner

Another email from my roommate, has delivered the following.

These are extracts from actual letters sent to various councils and Housing associations throughout the UK:

1. I want some repairs done to my cooker as it has backfired and burnt my knob off.

2. I wish to complain that my father hurt his ankle very badly when he put his foot in the hole in his back passage.

3. And their 18 year old son is continually banging his balls against my fence.

4. I wish to report that the tiles are missing from the outside
toilet roof. I think it was that bad wind the other night that blew them off.

5. I am writing on behalf of my sink, which is coming away from the wall.

6. Will you please send someone to mend the garden path, my wife tripped and fell on it yesterday and now she is pregnant?

7. I request permission to remove my drawers in the kitchen. 50% of the walls are damp, 50% have crumbling plaster and the rest are plain filthy.

8. The toilet is blocked and we cannot bath the children until it is cleared.

9. Will you please send a man to look at my water? It is a funny colour and not fit to drink.

10. Our lavatory seat is broken in half and is now in three pieces.

11. I want to complain about the farmer across the road, every morning at 6:00am his cock wakes me up and its now getting too much for me.

12. The man next door has a large erection in the garden, which is unsightly and dangerous.

13. Our kitchen floor is damp. We have two small children and would like a third so please send someone round to do something about it.

14. I am a single woman living in a downstairs flat and would you please do something about the noise made by the man I have on top of me every night.

15. Please send a man with the right tool to finish the job and satisfy my wife.

16. I have had the clerk of the works down on the floor six times but I still have had no satisfaction.

17. My bush is really overgrown round the front and my back passage has fungus in it.

18. He's got this huge tool that vibrates the whole house and I just can't take it any more.

Recently, Jodi and I were chatting. We were discussing our mutual dog ownership.

I was saying how getting a Golden Retriever was one of the best decisions I'd made in years. He's my little go-to guy, who just wants to do whatever I'm doing, even if it's just going to Blockbuster*.

Jodi asked me if my cats have taken second place since getting a dog. They haven't. I care about all my animals large or small.

"I hate when men say they don't like cats," said Jodi. "I think one of the most masculine traits a man can possess is the ability to adore a delicate creature like a cat."

She has a point. I mean, you'd have to be one really insecure dickwad** to decide an innocent creature wasn't worthy of your respect, or threatened your masculinity.

Then today, three days later, whilst I was going through my referrals, I spotted that I'd had a visitor, who'd found me from a site, that had an entry about what freaks men who like cats are. Each highlighted word, links to a different blog, presumably belonging to men who have cats.

It's an opinion which is more indicative of the person holding it, than it is of the complete strangers she has chosen to hate. She'd probably hate me more if she met me. After all, I have an English accent, so that's probably freaky to her as well. Let's just pray that my drinking tea doesn't make me any more of a social outcast in this fine land.

Still, when you're as classy as this, you probably think you're in a good position to arbitarily judge and hate people you don't actually know.

Footnotes
*My local Blockbuster not only allows dogs in, but has an ample supply of dog biscuits, something which has not escaped Miles' attention.
**A wonderful American word, only equalled in Britain by 'git'.

In an episode with Woody and Kelly's wedding reception:

Woody: Has anyone seen a sink plunger?
Sam: Is the toilet blocked?
Woody: No, my uncle Jed left his leg on the bus, and he wants to dance.

WARNING: This product contains rants

In case you hadn't spotted it, at the top of this page, my name is Max. It is not Maxi, it is not Maxie, nor is it Maxo, It is short for Maxwell. It is not short for Maximillian, Maxamundo, Maxentius* or anything else.

"Oh, but we're just being friendly." some people will say. "it's just a term of affection.".

No. You are not, and it is not.

If you want to be friendly, then call me want I want to be called, Max. That is friendly. That is affectionate too, because it's considering my feelings.

You might think you're being funny, but I have some bad news for you. You're not. You're being asinine, and you sure as hell aren't being original.

And before any one person thinks this is a direct attack on them, it isn't. Sorry, you're not that special. If I have a problem with an individual, I'll let them know personally.

This is also not connected to any new domain name suggestions that I've recieved. I'm not that over-sensitive, and the more amusing ones have made me laugh or smile, with the exception of one, which played on the whole 'Maxi' thing.

The other thing that pisses me off, is people who barely know me, giving me nicknames. Excuse me? You don't know me.

I don't mind being friendly to strangers, actually that's one of the things I love about living in the US - people are so friendly to strangers - and I like that. But they don't need to be dicking around with my name.

I'm only just used to shop staff I meet, here in the US calling me Max straight away. In Britain they would never dare to be so familiar straight away. There, it's Mr Turner, once they've read the name on my credit card.

I have one nickname, and that is only used by my closest friends, and no, you don't need to know it, but I dare say you can figure it out.

None of my girlfriends have given me pet names. They have more sense than to try and do such a thing. If you're dating me, you need to be OK about calling me Max.

Mind you, if you're dating me, that's the least of your worries.

Footnotes
*There is a St Maxentius apparenlty. A cousin of mine got married in a church named after him.

Birthday Boy enjoying a Dog Chew (click to enlarge)

Tuesday was Miles' birthday. He's three.

They say that dogs grow to be like their owners. Or was it the other way round? I forget.

Miles and I are very similar in personality. We're both fairly laid-back, we're both very affectionate, we both have an eye for the ladies*, and we both shed on the carpet.

Therefore, it was no surprise that his approach to it being his birthday, was similar to mine. He feigned disinterest, whilst secretly hoping he'd be taken out to a restaurant for some fine dining.

In the end, he was taken out to Washington Park, for some fine walking, along with Saoirse, and a friend of mine**.

It was a beautiful evening, just the right temperature, with the sun low in the sky. The walk was only marred by the number of grumpy people we passed, who failed to respond to my cheery 'hello's. There were so many of them, I started to feel like I was back in Britain again. I guess we'd hit the post-work/post-commute crowd, who were still in Driving mode, and still hadn't de-stressed from daily trauma of trying to drive on I25 without spilling their sugar saturated, triple venté mocha's on the SUV's leather seating***.

When we got back home, Miles had a few doggie cookies from his favourite shop in the whole world - Remington & Friends.

These cookies, are hand-made on the premises, with no artificial ingredients, and come in a variety of flavours, including chicken, vegetable and beef. A recent, new edition seems to be cheese and garlic flavour.

I don't know about you, but I think garlic is the last thing a dog's breath needs adding to it. What the heck was Rick, owner of Remington's, thinking of?!

A Selection of Cookies (click to enlarge)

An Asside
As I write, I've just discovered something that's worse than a dog with garlic and cheese breath. Benny (Vice President in charge of Purring in my house), has been sat next to me as eat lunch, and now type.

Throughout lunch, whilst I'm trying to eat food, not throw it up, he has been farting. I don't just mean one or two. I'm talking about a concerted campaign of the flatulence equivalent of carpet bombing.

I guess his diet of rich kitten food^† and milk is finally taking it's toll on him. I know it is on me.

But it's the way he waits until I'm sat eating, and then hops up on the sofa next to me, and begins his olfactory assault, that is pure cat evil.

Now Where Was I?
So anyway, it was a fairly quiet birthday for Miles this year. Quiet, except for the sound of flatulent cats, crunchy dog cookies, and playful growling, whilst playing like this:

Footnotes
*Although he gets away with a lot more than me.

**A fellow batchelor, who wishes to remain anonymous, mainly because he's convinced that when we walk around together, people think we're a gay couple.

Hey! I'm stylish and fashionable because I'm European! I can't help it. I was born that way! It's not just a lifestyle choice, girlfriend!

***Although what the hell a 'truck' needs calf-skin leather seating for is beyond me. It goes without saying that these types of SUV driver go off-road less than the tarmac itself.

†Because of his diabetes, he has to have kitten food, despite being 11

I have new articles in the pipeline, including the much anticipated report on Miles' birthday, plus some interesting Max's Media Career news.

For now, however, British readers may find this site of use. If only to avoid establishments that don't know their arse from their espresso. Go check out the Coffee Police Reports, including useful mini reviews from their brave operatives in the field.

Yesterday (Sunday) I asked you for suggestions for a wild and crazy new domain name.

How many suggestions did I get through my comments system? One. Yes. A whole one suggestion.

Given that I'm averaging about 30+ readers a day, someone's slacking.

I'd like to say thanks to Eric Terrell for his suggestion. It made myself, and a certain young lady in San Francisco laugh quite a bit. Nice one Eric!

Thanks for your comments also Anita and Annica. Keep thinking chaps!

The rest of you, and that includes those branches of the American military who seem to be reading me just lately*, please chime in with any ideas you have.

I have a few of my own, plus my top team of advisors** have been working day and night to come up with some. I'll share my suggestions, and theirs, at the end of the week.

For now though, please keep sending me ideas!

What's the prize for having your idea selected, you ask? That's a damn good question, and one which I may even answer in the near future.

Perhaps if it's a female reader*** it'll be a date with Denver's most illegible^† British batchelor? For the chaps among you, a voucher, entitling you to a couple of pints of Guinness at my expense.

So, now you know what your mission for the week is, I expect to see a report on my desk by Friday.

Footnotes
*Two branches counted so far. You might think you're surfing anonymously soldier, but I can still see you!
**Magee and Hoyland on the UK team, plus one or two members of the US team.
***or a really desperate gay guy, who's not afraid to get the beers in.
†This is not a spelling mistake, it's a joke. As is my handwriting.

Folks, EID has just had it's 2002nd visitor, since I started counting bums on seats, back on 5th June this year. Of course some of you have been reading this drivel of mine since I started in January of this year.

In the words of Young Mr Grace, "You've all done very well."

Yesterday, was officially the first day of
Fall and boy does if feel like it this morning. It's almost frosty. Being Colorado, the sun is (as ever) shining, and we'll be warmed up in no time.

For now, however, I'm staying in bed, repleat with a large mug of tea, and my Macintosh laptop.

What do you think of the new style of pop-up
footnotes? I pilfered the Javascript source code from Jodi's site. However, unlike these people with Moveable Type, I hand-crank all my code in a
text editor, including all links and Javascript code.

The geeks among you will see it as me "kickin' it old skool", whilst the rest of you will see it as me being a cheap bastard.

Perhaps the geeks among you can tell me how to get rid of these extraneous line breaks that the Blogger system seems to insist on putting in, despite my best efforts.

As it's the weekend, I'm taking a day off from panicking about looking for a job, and thinking about the future of
EID.

In short, it's time to get serious, and move from the freebie, all web-based Blogspot system, to something with a little more permanence.

I've identified a really good deal on web hosting at ICDSoft. It offers way more capacity than any other deal at this price, than I've seen elsewhere, and all their user reviews have been very positive.

I'm also going to have to see about getting some good blogging software. It'll need to be Mac-based software, so I welcome recommendations.

I'm on the verge of writing my own, PC-Based, software, mainly in an attempt to keep my technical skills sharpened after so long out of work. I suppose ultimately, if there's nothing suitable for the Mac platform (something which I doubt) I could develop my own stuff for the Mac, but I really want to get going with this ASAP.

So, with that all set decided, I have one more thing to consider. A domain name.

I already have my own domain - turnerzone.com - and I could use that, however, it's not very indicative of what's to be found at EID. Given that ICDSoft can get me a freshly minted domain, registered for a mere $5, it'd almost be rude not to take them up on their offer, and come up with a new domain name, specifically for EID.

So, dear readers, this is where you come in. I need suggestions for a domain name. The obvious one is englishmanindenver.com, which is available, but a bit lengthy. Furthermore, as I can't be sure I'll be remaining in Denver, it could become very in appropriate, should I find myself living in Europe, or another part of the US or Canada.

So leave a comment and/or email, and give me some inspiration. It doesn't have to include any part of my name, or a reference to my nationality or location, but it can if you want.

I look forward to hearing some ideas!

from the Strange Video Dept.

Every now and again, I come across bizarre little film clips on the web. One regular source of these, and many other insights into life is from Mike Daisey's site (see links section on the right).

Today, we have this tribute to Ray Harryhausen

Sound is essential when watching this clip.

I'm always interested to know how people came by my site. It's also intriguing to see how high up the search results the site appears, when it's listed in the results of a particular search term.

Imagine my surprise therefore, when EID was third in a Google search for the word "Englishman".

The search was conducted on Google's Czech site, however, I've tested it on the main google.com site, and I'm still number three.

So, does this mean that there are only two sites on the Internet, more quintessentially English than mine? Dear God, I hope not. I'm a European* dammit! OK, so technically I'm British** as well, but I don't feel like it any more. Living outside the UK, and more importantly, living with a fellow European who isn't British for a number of years is probably a factor in my feeling this way.

If that's not what it means, then perhaps I'm just one big walking cliché of Englishness? Now, where did I put my bowler hat and umbrella?

Footnotes
*Incredibly stylish, efficient, good gas-mileage, drinks a lot of weapons-grade espresso
**Miserable, cynical, pessimistic, obsessed with the weather, drinks a lot of warm beer

Unsolicited phone calls are one of the banes of modern life. I used to get them in Britain, and I've been getting them since day one of living in the US.

And I'm not exaggerating when I say 'day one'. When I moved to the US, my then employer provided a rental apartment, whilst I looked for a house to buy. As soon as the phone was enabled, the calls started.

However, this is not going to be a piece of observational comedy about the bleedin' obvious. I'm also not going to go on about those lying crooks, known locally as AT&T, who slammed our long-distance service, not once, but twice, and presented us with a $200 bill for one call to Ireland.

So, I want to set out my policy on call handling at home.

1) No Caller ID means your call will be screened. If you're a friend or family, leave a message. Heck, if you're the bank, leave a message. If I'm there, I'll pick up.

2) If you are calling me, don't have your system ring me, and then put me on hold! That is just so fucking rude, I can't begin to express my annoyance.

My policy on this, is to hang up. It's the same deal if I inadvertently pick up and it's a telemarketer. Invariably they can't hear me for the first couple of seconds. Once I realise this, again, I hang up.

3) If you call me accidentally, because your fat little fingers are unable to dial the right number, have the decency to say something. Don't just hang up like the rude, ill-mannered asshole you are, say something. Anything. Preferably, "Oh I'm sorry, I have a wrong number." You'll be blown away by how nice I'll be about it - mainly because you've done the polite thing.

If, on the other hand, you just hang up without speaking, my policy is to hold the line open, and shout at you, whilst you desperately tap on the reciever, to try and get a fresh dial tone. My typical rant is, "Where I come from, it's polite to say you have a wrong number, not just hang up!"

4) If you can't work out how to pronounce either my name, or that of the other members of the household, I will terminate the call at the first opportunity.

5) If I decide to end the call, because it's a telemarketing call, it's over. Don't try to keep me on the phone a little longer in the hope that I'll forget I loathe you. I won't. I'll just loathe you more.

Also, don't ask me to explain why I'm not interested. I'm just not. I don't have to explain myself to you. You're an uninvited caller. You can just go to Hell.

I've had this last thing also happen to me on my doorstep, back in Britain. A representative of the local cable TV company, wouldn't accept that I wasn't interested, and wanted to know why. How dare he question my disinterest. He cold called me for fuck's sake! How much interest am I expected to have in that?

And another thing
Will the company who's brainless staff have typed in the wrong dial-up number for dialling into head office in the early evening, please remove my house's phone number from your call list. I've had evenings were I've been called 20 or 30 times by your computer.

I'd ring back and complain, but... there's no Caller ID.

Fellow writer and long-distance friend Jodi, has a piece linking to the story of a controvesial statue in New York.

I have nothing to add, beyond what I wrote in her comments section.

Here it is. There's a link to the story from there, including a picture of the statue.

Miles is a real "ladies man". Whenever we're out and we meet women, he can be very flirtatious. I wish I could get away with as much as he does! He definitely homes in on the women we meet when we're out, however, there are one or two men that he likes to lean against. Above all others, he adores my next-door neighbour, Mark. He gets very excited when Mark's car pulls up outside our houses, and runs to meet him.

So imagine how exicted he was, when he realised that Mark was joining us on this afternoon's walk!

The walk was good, and ended up at the Washington Park Coffee Company, where Miles met the other love of his life, the delightful French-Canadian lass who works there. She's someone who I've actually seen Miles actively flirting with. I can't blame him, she's adorable. If I was as good-looking as Miles, I'd be flirting with her too.

On the way home, Mark commented that he'd been promising to come and cook my roommate and I dinner. PerhapsI should point out that he's a professional chef.

So, this evening, he came over, and cooked.

Boy did he cook!

Knowing as you do, how I'm a cyncal European, and not prone to false enthusiasm, you'll appreciate that my reaction to his cooking was genuine, and my enthusiasm was completely justified.

He made a Gazpacho soup to start. I've had Gazpacho soup before, not many times, but enough to tell you that this was amongst the best I've ever had. Just the right amount of jalapeno!

For entrée, giant shrimp wrapped in bacon, and salmon, with rosemary roasted potatoes and green beans, accompanied by a mango and coconut milk sauce.

As he cooked, my roommate and I stood watching, partly in awe, asking questions all the way.

Words alone, can't do justice to this course.

Bear in mind, that as a fan of fine dining, I eat out a lot, both here in the US, and throughout several countries in Europe, and beyond. So when I'm lost for words about a meal, it has to be good.

Not only was everything superbly cooked, but the meal was improvised based on what Mark had in his kitchen and my roommate and I had in ours. The fish and shrimp were the only things purpose-bought.

I, for my part, provided two bottles of red wine. The contents of these, mysteriously disappeared whilst we were eating. It might have been natural evaporation, or it might have been Miles and Benny. Then again, it might have been Mark, the roommate and myself.

After dinner, I opened a new bottle of port. This was a very special bottle to me. My father bought it for me, and gave it to me last Christmas. I later found out that it was not at all a cheap bottle. As it slide down our throats, you could tell, that this was way better than any bottle of port I'd ever bought.

Upon opening the box that it came in, I discovered a Cuban cigar. This had been given to me by the Landlady of my regular pub in Britain, The Porterbutt, in Bath.

Mark and I ended up, out on the porch, with the dogs, sipping the finest port we've ever had (thanks Dad!), and working on that cigar. It took some work, if only to keep it lit.

Anyway, a damn fine evening, that ended with a damn fine port, and a darn good cigar.

America and Americans are, rightly, obsessed with their constitutional rights. I don't blame them. I just wish that British citizens had similar rights, or for that matter, any rights.

Now there is the story of this teenage girl, suing her educational authority about her rights to start an anarchy club, and to wear a controversial t-shirt.

The full story is available at the Court TV website.

Now I'm just wondering where I can get one of those t-shirts!

from Department S.

I don't like, nor do I think it's fair, to single out individual readers. However, there is one regular EID reader who intrigues me.

As you may or may not already know, I have all sorts of technical gubbins, hidden in the bowels of the EID website, that monitor traffic. And before those so-called witty bastards amongst you make the obvious joke, no, it doesn't tell me when there's a tailback on I25**.

It tells me all sorts of interesting stuff about who's visiting the site. For example, 33.6% of my readers are using the mouse with their left hand. Spooked yet?

Talking of being spooked, this leads me, in an almost seemless segway, to the point of this posting.

One of my regulars, is operating from the .gov.uk domain. For their, and Her Majesty's, privacy, that's as much of the domain name as I'm giving!

For some months now, I've been wondering which part of the H.M Government is monitoring my site. Chances are, it's someone at work, reading it for their own sake, and thus robbing poor British taxpayers of several valuable seconds of their tax money. It might even be a certain friend of mine, who I know works in a government department, but who I'm pretty sure doesn't know I even have a website.

If it's not personal reading that's going on, then this rather begs the questions, who's watching me, and why?

Given that I'm not a member of any political or special interest groups, either here in the US, or back in the UK, I can't see how I'd be target for monitoring. Of course, living with an Irishwoman in the past few years, might have put Special Branch on my tail***

I've not searched the EID archives, but I don't remember ever publishing anything inflammatory about the UK government. Lord knows they provide enough material for potential rants by me, but I'm not sure I've ever really gone off on one about them.

I've mentioned before that I get some sad muppets coming to the site, having used Google to search for porn^† and ending up on my site, because Google has found all the matching words in their bizarre search string, scattered around my site. It's possible that the same thing has happened here, in a governmental search, fooling the servants of the state.

OK, so I think we have enough keywords buried in the text of this article, that if the UK authorities weren't monitoring me already, they'll soon see me listed in their web alert service.

So, what do I want? What I'd love is a comment, or an email, from the person concerned, just to let me know what the deal is. If Special Branch, MI5 or whoever, are monitoring me, that's fine, I hope they're having a fun read, but I wouldn't mind knowing why?

If it's not official business, drop me a line from home, and put my mind at rest.

If you need someone to infiltrate the s, bars or bookstores of Denver, I'm your man! If there are female enemy agents at DU^†† or in Washington Park, I'm prepared to make the penultimate sacrifice for Queen and country, and seduce them.

But remember... I like my Guinness, settled not stirred.

Footnotes
*On Her Majesty's Secret Surfing
**There's always a tailback on I25
***Comedian Jeremy Hardy once said, "of course in Britain, you're innocent until proved Irish."
†Duh! Use the usenet newsgroups you retards. Err... I read somewhere... err... apparently.
††Denver University and it's surrounding environs.

Several people have commented that they thought this was about me. It's from the front page of The Onion:

Laptop Guy At Coffee Shop
Nine Times Out Of Ten

This afternoon, I went down to the radio station to hear a live session.

Despite my friend and DJ there, Susan, calling me about 304 times in the past two weeks, to remind me of the gig, I still managed to forget what time it was starting.

At 2pm, as I was hugging the freaked out dogs (see previous article), I called the station back to double check that it was a 4pm kick-off for the live performance. It wasn't. It was a 2pm kick-off.

So I jumped into the truck, wearing my oh-so-very-attractive rain hat, and barrelled up Logan, to the station. I listened to the first half of the performance whilst I drove.

I got to the station, at the halfway point of the session, and quietly slid into the seats, where a small audience had gathered.

The Players
The featured artist was Charles Gatschet on guitar. His new album, is called Reflections. He's the brother of Susan, DJ previously mentioned. No family connections were needed for this man to get the gig, however, because his music, in both composition and performance, does all the talking for him.

He was accompanied by:

Eric Gunnison on piano
Mark Simon on bass
Paul Romaine on drums

The Playlist
As I said, I managed not to be in the for the first half of the performance. I'll update with a full list, when I get it from Susan.

Whilst I was there, I heard them play:
Sorrisinhos (Little Smiles) - a beautiful, gentle piece with soft spanish vocals
A 16-bar Blues - Rockin' good stuff, with some fun drum breaks
Squeeze Me - a Duke Ellington number, steady, smooth, almost like an after-dinner mint in jazz form.
A Be-Bop number - the name of which I didn't catch, but it took us briskly into the news!

Much as I'm not a big fan of jazz guitar, preferring the trumpet of Miles Davis, the pianos of Thelonious Monk, and Red Garland, and the bass skills of Charlie Mingues, Charles Gatschet may have converted me to the jazz guitar cause. After seeing him, sat there, effortlessly pouring out such beautiful and well-written music, it's hard not to be impressed.

The rest of the players, all well-known local musicians in their own right, gelled with Gatschet, as if they'd been playing together for years. He only had to give the slightest nod in one direction or another, for them to know what he wanted next, or who was to do a solo next.

OK, so this has been a less than complete article. Truth is, I've been sitting on it for two days, trying to find out the full, and detailed, playlist. So before this article goes past it's read-by date, I'll go to press.

Denver's weather was doing it's usual job of only dealing in extremes today. Bright sunshine in the morning, and then just after lunch, torrential rain like you wouldn't believe (unless you lived here), and a seriously loud, and impressive thunderstorm.

It was right over the house, and Miles and Saoirse started to freak out. They don't mind thunderstorms in general, and are in fact, quite happy to go out on the porch and watch them, as long as they're not right over the house, and therefore really loud.

So suddenly, I have nearly 200lbs of doggies, all trying to climb into my lap.

Thankfully, part of the deal with the extreme weather we have here, is that it never lasts all that long (rain never more than about half an hour to an hour, for example), and so the storm settled, enabling me to go out to my afternoon's appointment.

Last night, I met some fellow Colorado bloggers for a few beers.

Living where I do, in fashionable Washington Park, one of the advantages of the location, is that downtown Denver is only a short distance away, and there's lots of public transport headed in that direction.

I headed down to the nearest Light Raiil station, with my MiniDisc walkman, in my pocket, and Snake River Conspiracy providing the soundtrack to my walk.

Their album, Sonic Jihad, includes two cover tracks, Lovesong (by The Cure) and How Soon Is Now? (by The Smiths). The Smiths track, is a superb reworking of that classic Eighties track.

I hopped on the Light Rail, and met a very nice (and cute) young lady, who chatted to me as we sped quietly downtown.

It was "Big Ass Beer Night" at the Rock Bottom Brewery. You could be forgiven for thinking, "But any kind of beer is eventually going to give you a big ass/arse", however, this refers to the fact that it's $5 for the first pint, with a decorated glass to take home, and then $2 refills. Even if you don't want the glass, you've saved money by the second pint.

The usual suspects were there, and as ever, the conversation was a real mixed bag, but we all had a good laugh.

Rain is a rare thing in Colorado, but it was pouring down as we left the bar. Boy was I glad I'd brought not only my leather jacket, but also my waterproof hat! It's one of those oilskin/waxed things, that's not going to win me any style awards, but is going to keep the rain off me.

The Light Rail journey back was a blur, partly because of the rain on the windows, and partly because of the stout in my bloodstream.

Now, the thing to remember about Denver, is that we're a mile above sea-level. Therefore, any alcohol has almost double the effect that it does at sea-level. This effect is worsened, however, when you totally forget to drink any water before retiring for the night.

So this morning, I awoke, rather too early, my head pounding. Rutger, one of my cats, was banging on the bedroom door, demanding that I get my sorry arse out of bed and feed him.

I opened the door. The full morning crew was there. Two dogs and one cat. Benny doesn't climb upstairs these days, as due to his diabetes, he has some nerve problem that gives him what the vet calls, "Plantigrade Stance". I call it, "Charlie Chaplin Walk". For his birthday, I'm buying him a set of baggy pants and a little moustache.

Eventually, I made it downstairs. Now here are some things you should not have to deal with, when you're hung-over, and feeling like puking:

1) An incessantly noisy, squawking cat
2) Cat food, particularly the tinned meat variety
3) Hypodermic needles
4) Cat or dog vomit

Well, I scored a hat-trick. For once, no-one had vomited overnight. I say, "for once" because it's a regular occurrence in my house. The dogs do it because whilst out walking, they eat too much grass, and then sic it up back home. The cats do it, just to piss me off.

Job one, was making a BIG mug of tea. That done, cats fed, and Benny given his insulin shot, I retired to my boudoir, with the tea, my iBook and my sore head. The dogs all climbed on the bed, and we watched the rerun of last night's The Screensavers.

I'm starting to worry that Miles has watched too much Tech TV, because when someone on the show mentioned Windows ME, he let out a big sigh.

The tea wasn't working for me this morning. So as Emeril would say, I "kicked it up a notch", and made coffee. No milky latté for me this morning, just plain old cuppa joe, with a toast chaser.

That did the trick. I felt a lot better. So did Rutger who, when I wasn't looking, helped himself to some of my toast.

I am writing new articles, honestly. But in the meantime, here's a great email I recieved from my roommate, with summary of genuine newspaper stories, read on BBC Radio 4's News Quiz program over the years past 25 years.

Police reveal that a woman arrested for shoplifting had a whole salami in her knickers. When asked why, she said it was because she was missing her Italian boyfriend. (Reuters via The Manchester Evenings News)

Commenting on a complaint from a Mr.Arthur Purdey about a large gas bill, a spokesman for North West gas said "We agree it was rather high for the time of year. It's possible Mr.Purdey has been charged for the gas used up during the explosion that blew his house to pieces." (Bangkok Post)

I'm not even going to consider attempting to write about the tragic events that happened a year ago today.

Much as I might fancy myself as a bit of a writer, there's nothing I could say, that wouldn't have already been said better by someone else.

It was a day when, as a foreigner in the US, I felt at one with my friends here, in our shock, horror, and disgust at what happened.

I know I also didn't write much yesterday either, but that was just because I was busy. I have a piece in the pipeline, and will tinker with that. Doubtless, the muse may return and I'll try - once again - to entertain y'all.

For today, however, I'm just sending out a big hug to all my readership. I don't know about you, but I could sure use one.

This is becoming a habit. I'm back at the WPCC, using their fine high-speed wireless network, and consuming waaaay too much caffeine.

Right. I've fixed up the comments template. That whole left/right margin issue was easy to solve, once I'd taken a look at someone else's code and seen how they'd done it.

I might tinker with the comments some more, or I might not.

It's all part of the mystery that is Max.

Footnote
*Just like Jim'll Fix It, only with less jewellry.

I had hoped to come to you live and direct from the behemoth caffeine dealership that is the Wash Park Coffee Company. I believe I've mentioned this fine establishment before.

Barry, the owner, has been promising high-speed wireless internet access for his patrons since just after he started the business. How surprised, however, would those of you who live in Denver be, to learn that the bottleneck* in the process of his getting it going, is Qwest.

These are the same bunch of greedy, money-grabbing republicans, who are currently in the long roll-call of American corporations being investigated for accounting irregularities.

Whilst I don't get a vote in the US, although I do pay taxes**, I just wonder when the general public is going to get of their fat, brain-washed arses, and say enough is enough.

People go on about this being the greatest democracy in the world, but it simply isn't true anymore. Sure your voice will be heard if you're a massive corporation or an incredibly rich individual, and can pay for lobbyists to get your point across, but what about the common man?

Honestly, it's like that cult sci-fi movie They LIve! - where the populace have been conditioned and brain-washed, to accept what''s going on. In it, our hero finds some special glasses that allow him to see the reality.

All the authority figures are these hideous skeleton-like aliens, and all the advertising has hidden meanings, such as, "Consume", "Buy a second car", "Reproduce" and "Obey".

Every time I see Britney Spears*** hawking Pepsi-cola, I think of that film. I'm always half-expecting that if I used my sunglasses, I'd see the hideous alien she really is.

So get up off your arses America! This can be the greatest democracy in the world, if we ditch these corporate puppets in power, and get candidates who actually want to represent the people.

And if you are getting up, I'll have another latté please.

Update: Barry, the WPCC owner has arrived, and it seems the wi-fi network is up and running. So, I am coming to you live from the Coffee Company, afterall.

Footnote
*A bottleneck with a large cork arc-welded into place
**Where have we heard of taxation without representation before? And they say Americans don't know irony!
***or anyone of a number of so-called entertainers, who don't see the irony of them writing "musician" in the occupation part of their passport.

Excuse me? Since when did miming to a tape of a song you neither wrote nor played an instrument on, constitute being a musician? As the barista here at the WPCC just said to me, "It's either that, or they put 'recording artist' in the passport."

Another good point. I mean, doesn't being an artist imply some sort of creativity? I mean, just what does Britney, or Christina Aguilera do that is creative? They sing what they're told to sing, they don't write any songs, nor play any instruments and they hawk what corporate products they're told to by management. Perhaps choosing which nail varnish to wear is the creative part?

OK, so the 2% of my readership that ever actually leave a comment, will have noticed that my comments form has changed.

I'm still using the same system, just messing around with templates. My Javascript knowledge is far from complete, so I'm tinkering. You'll see a number of changes in the coming week, as I fine-tune the layout and functionality of it.

Do any of you know enough Javascript to tell me how to set a left margin or border? The lack of said margin is why the comment text on every line but the first, is so hard against the window's edge.

And, before you point me to javascript.com and searched. Found something that vaguely hinted at it, but wan't too informative.

I've yet to fully search javascripts.com (note different spelling) however.

No surprises here. I took the test and here's my result:

Which Breakfast Clubber Are You?

Find out @ She's Crafty

This morning was a perfect Sunday morning, unless you count the fact that I couldn't sleep last night, and was still awake at 6am.

Got up late, and got busy with email and tidying the kitchen, whilst I made coffee. My soundtrack to this was Miles Davs' E.S.P. - a rockin' good bit of jazz.

When the tidying from last night's mini dinner party was done, the latté was just perfect, especially its foam. So good, I've decided to share it. Here you go:

You'll notice my current cheapo espresso maker. What it lacks in buttons and automation, it makes up for in quality milk foam!

In the spirit of ecological goodness, I'm recycling something I wrote in the comments section of Because I Say So. The conversation was about the term, "reverse discrimination", and how retarded an expression it was:

I hate these retards, who use that phrase. I've also heard, "Reverse racism", to describe non-whites being rude about whites.

'Irregardless', could be taken to mean, "not without regard", which would be a pointless double-negative, however, it's never used in that sense. It's used by idiots who mean 'regardless'.

Sorry, but the whole 'irregardless' thing has been bugging me for some time now.

I read it on the Internet, so it must be true:

Capricorn - After months of registry tweaks and sifting through DLL files you will successfully remove IE from your system. Too bad your screensaver will recreate it from scratch the next time it runs.

Courtesy of BBSpot - a geek humour site. Their Geek Horoscopes section is the best. You don't necessarily have to be a geek to find it funny.

As you'll see in the links section, I read Because I Say So! - a blog-like site by a lass in New York, called Jodi.

In fact, we read each others sites. As often happens we started by leaving comments on each other's site, then the occasional e-mail, and more recently, instant messages.

Before the rumour-mongers among you jump to any conclusions, there's no romance here. We're just a couple of fellow online writers of a like mind.

Having said we're of a like mind, you wouldn't necessarily know it, if you read our online outpourings. Thing is, she has this hard-nosed online persona, that hides the really lovely person she is in real life! Embarrassed yet Jodi?

Truth is, there are several fellow bloggers who I've chatted to online. It's really interesting to talk to someone that you've been reading for a while.

Today, however, was a first. Jodi and I were instant-messenging, and eventually, she ended up calling my cell, and saved us both a whole bunch of typing. Again, this was fun, talking to someone who's column you read regularly. We soon established that we were even more like-minded about so much of what's wrong with the world. The only thing that would have made it more fun would have been for us to be sat in a nice pub, replete with our favourite tipples*.

Anyway, the up-and-the-down of it, is if I ever go to NYC,, I have a ready-made friend to show me round, and match me demitasse for demitasse on the espresso.

Keep in touch Jodi.

Footnote
*Mine's a Guinness, if you're offering.

from the National State of Emergency Dept

My house is out of teabags. I mean really out. Not even any left in the secret stash in the garage.

I'm talking the good stuff here. The stuff I have shipped over from Britain, rather than pay $14 for 100 half-size bags at Cost Plus Imports.

My friend Tim is shipping some over, but they haven't arrived yet. You did post them didn't you Tim? In fairness I've been late posting the reciprocal package of goodies back.

In case you care, I'm talking about Typhoo Green Label tea. Not as someone once brought me, Typhoo Green Tea.

When the British say 'tea', they mean that blended black tea, made with boiling (not microwaved, not just 'hot') water, with a dash of milk in it.

Expect marshall law to be declared in my house, sometime this weekend, if supplies don't get through soon.

from the Double Glazing Dept.

Yesterday, at some point, I lost my glasses. My $400 glasses, with the Flexon 'memory-metal' frames. Talk about annoying.

I've since torn the house apart looking for them. I've searched my truck too. At 11pm last night, in a fit of desperation, I drove back down to the park where I walked that dogs that afternoon, and scoured the whole area of the park where I'd been, with a torch*

I only need my glasses for reading, TV watching and computer stuff, but if you know me, you'll know that they are fairly important parts of my life! I can still read without them, only my eyes get tired very quickly.

Today, I rang an ophthalmologist friend, and she recommended taking my prescription to Lenscrafters, who have a one-hour service.

So I did just that. I've previously avoided these mass-market cheapo places, however, I have to say it was impressive. The range of frames (and brands of frames) was extensive.

I took ages trying to decide, and as I was there on my own, roped in a couple of the women working there, to give me female opinions.

I nearly went with a set of Vogue frames, in the 'narrow black frame for European espresso drinkers' style, but I've already had a pair like that, and unless I was wearing one of my many hundreds of black turtleneck sweaters, they tended to make me look like Woody Allen after a night without sleep.

In the end, I chose a pair of Brooks Bros. frames, from their, 'Macintosh User'** range.

Click to enlarge

This hour's wait, however, was the where it all started to go wrong for me.

First off, I popped into Sam Goody, and acquired a new DVD I'll talk about that more at some point. Suffice to say, the BBC have done even better with the extras than before. Not bad for a story that originally aired in 1975!

Then I went and picked up my new glasses. However, I didn't make it out of Creek Shopping Center without visiting Fossil, and picking up this:

Click to enlarge

I've been wearing the glasses and the watch since I got home. It's weird going back to solid plastic frames after so long with the Flexon ones, but at least I can see again without eye strain!

Footnotes
*flashlight
**You know what I mean. Angular, striking, a bit trendy, and with a 5% market share.
***No, I wasn't on the pull, she was just very chatty and helpful. If anything I couldn't stop thinking about how her name sounded like a brand of car. Lexus is, after all, owned by Honda. Either that, or it reminded me of the low-rent British supermarket Londis

from the Batteries Not Included Dept.

Kids grow up so fast these days. One minute they're playing with their officially sanctioned movie tie-in merchandise, the next minute it's sex toys.

Amazon aren't exactly helping the situation with the Harry Potter Nimbus 2000 Broom.

Read the "Spotlight Reviews" and prepare to be amazed at the sheer innocence... of the parents!

Big thanks to the lovely Jodi - a fellow blogger and online chum, for this.

Footnotes
*This is a rowdy drinking song, from the Discworld novels of Terry Pratchett.

US readers note that the incredible so-called hilarity of this, is that the British also use the work knob as a slang term for penis. I spend years trying to convince Americans that all British comedy is not Benny Hill and Are You Being Served, and then this comes along.

The journey to Steamboat Springs was real uneventful. Miles of highway, followed by miles of b-roads.

The Nordic Motel looked, shall we say, more like a KGB detention centre, than a place to relax on a weekend away.

This suspicion was confirmed, when I met the owner, who bore a striking rememblence to Rosa Klebb (KGB henchwoman in James Bond films). It turned out she was Polish, and so her accent furthered my suspicion that if I didn't behave, she'd click her heels together to release the deadly knife blade in the front of her shoe.

Her daughter, far too friendly to be in the employ of a secret underworld organisation bent on world domination, showed us to our accommodation. It was basic, but functional, kinda like the former Eastern Bloc. Still what is one to expect for a mere $100 a night in Steamboat. Clearly this little cow town has prices above its station.

The dogs were happy enough with the room, however, and Miles in particular seemed very excited. He particularly liked the air-conditioning.

Just as the air-conditioning was getting going, Rosa appeared, like a Spectre* at the window, barking orders that indicated that we were fools, and capitalist scum, for not shutting the window fully, when we had the A/C on.

After lunch in town, we all piled into my truck and headed up higher (10,400ft just isn't enough if you're going to hike in the heat! Far too much oxygen around!).

The journey, as is the way in Colorado, involved a lot of driving on unpaved roads, mud, rock, and so on, All justifying my choice of vehicle, as I shot past regular cars, struggling up the steep and rocky inclines.

After following the directions in the Canine Colorado book, it turned out they were somewhat bogus, My suspicion is that they were written by a Poodle with a grudge.**

So, I stopped and asked for directions. Having shattered that anti-Male cliché, I then had to head back down the rocks and dirt, to the paved road, and then back up a similar hill, with similar tough terrain.

Eventually, we found the trail we wanted, and set off. It was especially chosen, because it's one of a rare number of off-leash trails in Colorado.

It was all very well on the first half of the hike, as it was mostly downhill. There were beautiful Aspen trees, and may ferns that had turned golden red and yellow in the sun. I shot a few snippets of film, but nothing too exciting.

As we went along, there was a steady stream of Mountain bikers, quietly sneaking up on us from behind. So much so, that I ended up at the back of the party, occasionally looking across the ferns, for more incoming bikers. With the vegetation around me, it was starting to feel like I was looking out for the Viet-Kong.

Steamboat Springs, is very much, small-town America. However, unlike most small-town America towns, it has pretensions that it's something special. Well, Steamboat, here's the shock news... you're not. Maybe the fact that you're in 'ski country' means that every year, thousands of clueless skiing-obsessed poseurs*** descend upon you, happy to pay your over-inflated accommodation prices, but you're still one horse short of being a two-horse town.

The evening meal at a 'pub' was nice, and just to help it down, I consumed a steady stream of Guinness. In fact, the most admirable thing about our waitress, apart from the fact that she accidentally didn't charge us for one of the entrées, was the fact that she continually pre-empted my final sip of each Guinness, with a fresh pint.

PS. I'll try and follow up with some pictures.

Footnotes
*Excuse the Bond-related pun, I just couldn't help myself.
**Is there any other sort?
***You know the sort, constantly bleating on and on about how good skiing is. The same sort of tossers who have those "No Fear" stickers on their cars, and who frequent sports bars rather than decent pubs. These tedious, soulless fuckers, who just because they have an awareness of their own mortality similar to that of a three year-old, think that throwing themselves down mountains with planks on their feet, makes them somehow cool and interesting. Whereas the only way they'd ever actually be interesting would involve jumper-cables and a bucket of water.

It's that whole jock mentality. The whole, my suntan's better than yours, my truck's bigger than yours, my fuck-boring beige shoebox-on-steroids house in Highlands Reich is bigger than yours thing. These are the same people who by their brain-washed consumer choices allow the continued success of such mindless soul-destroying pits of Hell, like Z-Tejas Grill. Hmmm... It appears, I may have strayed from the point.

It's a bit of a last-minute move, but I'm going away for a couple of days. In fact the entire household, sans les chats, is going to Steamboat Springs.

I've found a hotel that allows dogs, so first thing tomorrow morning, we're all piling into the truck, and heading up there. It's entirely possible, that Monday night will be spent in Breckenridge.

The primary objectives of the trip are:

1) Get the f*** out of Denver
2) Do some hiking
3) Read some books
4) See new sights
5) Drink
6) Photograph and video anything that moves, and a fair amount of that which doesn't.

I wouldn't be me, if I didn't take enough technology with me, to land the Space Shuttle, so expect an update whilst I'm there.

Non-US readers please note: Monday is "Labor Day". Their spelling, not mine.